


where your heart ought to be

by vaudelin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Times, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Movie Night, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudelin/pseuds/vaudelin
Summary: Five times Dean and Cas watched a movie together (and one time they didn’t).





	where your heart ought to be

**Author's Note:**

> since 13x06 confirmed the existence of movie nights, figured it would be fun to venture through such nights throughout the years. 
> 
> **Please note:** some nightmare visuals in part II; it gets raunchy in part IV; has vague references to 12x23 in part V; and involves 13x05 in part VI.

 

I.

As Cas’ pop culture context was still sorely lacking, Dean took it upon himself to guide the angel through the greatest movie milestones marking the back half of the century. He made a list of what he considered the classics— _Easy Rider_ , _The Shining_ , and _Cool Hand Luke_ among them—and sat Cas down with a schedule that ate through the empty hours. It helped that Cas didn’t sleep; Dean could queue three or four films a night, sit Cas in a quiet corner, and come back in the morning to an entire day’s worth of banter built from the questions Cas had.

So Cas didn’t understand most of what he was watching. That was fine. It was still helping; Dean could spit out a Nicholson line now without earning a confused squint, just a long-suffering sigh. For the most part, Cas would play along with quotes Dean threw at him, spitting back the second line even if his deadpan delivery undercut most of the reference’s joy.

But then, on the last marathon, they’d hit a snag. Cas said he didn’t like _Star Wars_.

Didn’t _like_ it. Said it _didn’t make sense_ and had _so many logical contradictions that I couldn’t focus on the banal storyline it was trying to convey_.

That’s fine. It’s fine.

It’s not like it’s a crime.

Not like it nagged at Dean whenever he thought too long about the plot holes Cas had pointed out—that Luke still used the Skywalker name, that Kenobi had forgotten Leia even existed—and it wasn’t like those holes were enough to ruin his own enjoyment of the films. No sir, Dean was fine.

He was fine, and he didn’t need Cas to understand why the series was such a goddamn classic. He didn’t need Cas to get it, which was why he didn’t _need_ to, he just _wanted_ to, plop the laptop down on the table in front of Cas, pushing aside whichever book he’d been reading in favour of the original trilogy, queued.

“Watch it again,” Dean said, pointing at the screen. He hit the play button without waiting for a reply.

The laptop’s tinny speakers blared the opening theme. Cas stared up at him, the screen’s glow deepening the weathered lines around his eyes. “I remember it perfectly, Dean. Watching it again won't serve any benefit.”

Dean wasn’t going to fall for that puppy-dog look, not while Cas had mistakes to remedy yet. “Just focus on the humour this time, okay? Work on the themes.”

Dean marched out of the library, leaving for his own room before Cas could argue his way out of watching. He lay back on his bed, pulling his headphones on in an attempt to calm himself. When Zepp wasn’t helping and sleep still wouldn’t come, Dean took out his weapon stash and set himself on cleaning the collection. Dismantling and rebuilding the stash killed about an hour and thirty-seven minutes, enough time that Dean didn’t feel bad for marching back into the library again.

“Well?” Dean asked, when it became clear that Cas still wasn’t enjoying the movie, just suffering through it for Dean’s sake.

Cas flickered his gaze away from the screen, long enough to gauge Dean’s mood and match it with a sigh. “It has yet to make any more sense, Dean. With the breadth of the franchise in mind, it’s unreasonable that Vader never knew that Leia was his daughter, or that Luke was—”

“Shut up,” Dean said, shutting the lid. He thumped the laptop against his hip and motioned a thumb toward the dorms. “Get to the kitchen and make some popcorn. We’re doing this right.”

Cas looked unlikely to listen, but eventually he complied.

 

 

II.

The occasional bout of insomnia wasn’t that big a deal to Dean, especially when it came on the road for a case. He was already used to running on circadian fumes, counting the hours he slept each night on one hand. But the trouble with insomnia wasn’t that it showed up on the odd Tuesday, wasting one night before slinking off satisfied. No, it tended to be greedy, lingering for days, and when it hit Dean it scraped up every hour that it could.

Those four hours a night didn’t come to Dean anymore, not since the case with the rugaru that had torn through a couple little kids. Their dead-eyed faces flashed in his mind like clockwork, ashy skin twisting in sticky pools of blood, broken teeth spitting out from trembling lips, a chorus of tiny voices crying his name. Dean would doze off just to jerk awake in a cold sweat, going so far as to sob and startle Sam in his bed across the room.

So Dean took to leaving behind his tossing and turning; he dressed and stepped outside the motel room, jangling his keys, itching to take the Impala anywhere but here. This time of night, all he needed was to drive.

The streets of the city were black around him, marred by the odd late-night longhauler but otherwise quiet. Dean took a bypass down to the main four-lane vein, veering toward the heart of the city where like-minded civilians likewise never slept. The streetlights were warm, here, signs flashing and sidewalks busy with drunks crawling between the subway and the bars. Dean hummed along to the radio, tapping a tune out along the driver side door.

A soft flutter in the seat beside him told Dean he was no longer alone. He took his time turning to Cas, though, savouring the bustle of light and life around him before accepting the angel’s dour stead. “What’s cooking, Cas? Thought this’d be late for you to be calling.”

“I could say the same about you being awake,” Cas replied. He shook out his shoulders, as if uncomfortable to be sitting in the car. Dean kept up his rhythmless tapping, watching a barfight pass from the corner of his eye.

“I found the news Sam was asking for, regarding the rugaru.”

“So go tell him.”

“He’s sleeping, Dean.”

“Then tell him in the morning,” Dean replied. “Unless you’re not planning on sticking around that long.” He didn’t bother hiding his disdain.

Cas shifted again. “It’s not that easy. I have business to attend to with Heaven. They—”

“I know, I know.” Dean relented and waved him off, trying and failing to keep the frown from his face. It felt like he saw Crowley more than he did Cas, lately. Didn’t think it would hurt the guy to hang around for one late night. Cas apparently thought the same, because he stopped the shop talk and just let Dean drive them both around.

Ahead, a marquee proclaimed a midnight special upon a faded yellow sign, THE DOLLARS TRILOGY spelled out off-centre in a rickety red line. Dean made the call without bothering to read the rest. He signalled offside, aiming for the parking garage (even though he hated those things, everything was too cramped inside and the people there drove like idiots with no depth perception). He stuck the entry stub on the dash and clipped out of the car with small bills and a pocketful of change. Cas followed for reasons not entirely clear to Dean.

“You watching too?” Dean asked him out front of the box office, eyeing Cas with what he hoped didn’t seem like too much optimism. “It’s Eastwood, man. Even if I hadn’t seen it, I’d know it’s gonna be good.”

Cas squinted up at the marquee like he was counting burnt-out bulbs for the helluvit. Dean took it to mean he was buying a second ticket, and forked up the cash for Cas too.

“I still don’t understand why corn is the preferred meal for this ritual,” Cas said, as Dean handed him the bag of popcorn, keeping his own hands free for jerky and an oversized fountain drink. Dean didn’t get many chances at the theatre as a kid; John had held too tight a fist around the family finances to be wasting it on movies, which meant Dean liked to indulge on the would-be necessities now that his money was his own.

“It’s just a cheap staple for the theatre to make in bulk,” Dean told him. “They can charge us a ton for it, make their money that way.”

“Why not bring your own?” Cas countered.

Dean laughed. “Snacks, maybe you can sneak in with a murse. But popcorn? Nah man, you gotta splurge if you wanna go full authentic.”

Cas plucked a popped kernel from the bag and rolled it in his hand. He dropped it back to the bag with a grimace, rubbing his fingers together. “I suppose it would be impractical to hide a volume of such a greasy substance on your person.”

“Now you’re thinking with both brain cells.”

Dean didn’t look to confirm, but he could tell Cas was squinting at him as he followed down the aisle. They took their seats in darkness, part-way through _For a Few Dollars More_ if Dean had any estimate of the action playing out on the screen. He hoped it meant the theatre was screening the movies out of order, and _GBU_ had been saved for last.

Dean let Cas keep hold of the popcorn, and pushed the drink and bag of jerky at him whenever Cas seemed inclined to loudly voice his questions. Cas gave into the temptation eventually, sipping at the soda and working his mouth around a strip of jerky like it was a chunk of leather, feeling out every atom and yet coming back quietly for future bites.

“Thoughts?” Dean asked at the end, after the cemetery scene yanked out his heartstrings and Blondie left Tuco for dead. They stood outside, under the marquee, now dimmed. Dean stretched his arms and shivered in the night air.

Cas kept his eyes on the sidewalk in front of them, seemingly lost in thought. Dean watched the way he contemplated his response, the contents of his mind inscrutable but the importance of it decidedly clear.

“I understand popcorn now,” Cas told him finally, “though I regret how it sticks between my vessel’s teeth.”

Dean couldn’t help the laugh that claimed him, echoing down the empty streets. He nudged Cas’ shoulder with his own for good measure, and found his grin matched by Cas smiling in return.

 

 

III.

It took some time before Cas was back in a watching mood around Dean, though Dean remained mindful of his education, offering up idle recommendations whenever times weren’t too stressful and it seemed like Cas might stick around for a while before bailing again.

After the mess with Gadreel was mostly out in open air, Cas came around to hanging in Dean’s room at the bunker, sitting at the desktop with Sam’s laptop open, a pair of headphones plugged into the port whenever Dean was busy on his own thing.

Though Dean was distracted with browsing his own laptop tonight, he kept catching glimpses of Cas from the corner of his eye, noting the way he rubbed his neck and spun his shoulders, stretching mostly-human muscles that probably ached. When Cas moved, his screen came into partial focus, and once Dean finally locked a bead on what he was watching, he lobbed his nightstand detritus at Cas until Cas sharply turned around.

“Did Sam put you up to that?” Dean asked, making a vague gesture toward the movie from half a room away.

Cas frowned, glancing between him and the laptop. “Yes.”

“You took his recommendation over mine?”

“Yes?”

“But it’s _Pretty in Pink_.”

“It’s been pleasant so far.” Cas shrugged, unaffected by Dean’s scoffing, and pushed on the headphones again. Dean fell back on a last resort, tossing his phone charger at Cas and hitting him with its tail end. Cas paused the screen and rounded on him archly. “What, Dean?”

“... Bring it over.”

“Pardon?”

“C’mon, don’t make me say it again.”

Cas made a show of being insufferable, dropping the laptop onto Dean’s bed first, then making a separate trip to noisily gather the charger and plug it in beneath the nightstand. Dean closed his own laptop and held the cord Cas handed him, rolling his eyes while Cas perched on the bed beside him, waiting until Cas was settled with the movie on his knee before handing the cord back.

“You’ve seen this before, I presume?” Cas asked. He unpaused the movie, then remembered afterward to pull the headphones from the jack. Molly Ringwald washed over them mid-scene.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, but not for a long time. Don’t start it over, just… let it go.”

Cas thinned his lips, eyes narrowed down at where Dean slouched beside him. Dean ruffled his pillow, punching it a couple times just to irritate Cas. He crossed his arms and sank his shoulder down by Cas’ hip, adjusting only once to turn the nightstand light off, since the glare kept hitting the screen just wrong.

The quiet kept well between them, though Cas rubbed constantly at his shoulders, and his legs were clearly cramping from having to hold still. Dean reached down and shuffled the laptop off from him, re-angling the screen now that the movie sat lopsided on his waist.

“Thanks,” Cas muttered, flexing his legs.

Dean glanced up, but Cas’ expression remained inscrutable beneath the low light. He nudged Cas roughly with an elbow. “Lie down too, if your neck is killing you.”

Cas grumbled out something, but two scenes later he inched down to match Dean, a pillow bunched beneath his head. Dean reeled his legs in from their splay, now that Cas was eating up half the bed, same as him, but even tucked in he couldn’t help the way their thighs now rested half an inch apart.

Cas rolled his shoulders, digging into the pillow beneath him. Dean nudged his chin at him. “Need painkillers?”

Cas turned to him too. Dean was surprised to find him so close, now that they both were looking. “Thank you, but no,” Cas said, shaking his head. He settled in deeper, moving his hips, his entire side landing like a firebrand against Dean.

Later, Dean pulled the laptop up closer, when it became clear that Cas was dozing, his head lolling to rest against Dean. He turned the volume down and finished the last half of the film on his lonesome, aware the entire time of how the smallest gesture seemed to draw Cas closer.

When the credits started rolling, Dean shut the laptop and pushed it away. His shoulders dropped and his breathing evened out, seeming to settle him more deeply against Cas. A moment’s hesitation came and went, his thoughts passing too quickly to pick out more than panic. But then, Dean was already comfortable. He could let himself just doze here, just for one night.

 

 

IV.

Movie night came to Dean’s bedroom again, this time with another trilogy on the frontline.

“It’s _Indiana Jones_ , Cas. A seminal classic of the 80s,” Dean said, dropping a deadpan look Cas’ way. “By default you have to watch it. And since it’s Spielberg, you have to like it.”

Beside him, Cas eyed the previews warily, having apparently grown gun-shy toward Harrison Ford’s face.

“You’re not still sore about _Star Wars_ , are you?” Dean asked. Not that there was a right or wrong answer to this, but Dean wasn’t above kicking Cas out of his bed. Dean stared him down until Cas rolled his eyes, the closest he would come to conceding defeat.

“Bring over the popcorn,” Cas grumbled. He started the movie without waiting for Dean.

Cas was at least playing the part of a good sport through the first half of _Raiders_ , begrudgingly admitting an appreciation for Ford while suffering through all the religious inaccuracies by the skin of his teeth. He was about to start up another long-winded diatribe about the actual Pharaoh Shishaq when Dean cut him short by kissing him, more a knock of their mouths than anything with heat, at least until Cas laughed at his clumsiness and began kissing him earnestly back.

This kind of proximity was new to them, fresh enough yet that Dean’s heart leapt whenever Cas ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean’s breath came out quick as Cas pulled him in, kept him close, his tongue peeking out to prod along the seam of Dean’s lips. Dean welcomed him in with a sigh, smoothing his hand through Cas’ hair in a bid to bring him closer, his thumb caught chasing the whorls of Cas’ ear.

Cas skimmed a hand down Dean’s hip, humming at the hitch that greeted him as his fingertips dug in. Dean let Cas nudge him onto his side; the laptop slipped askew to the foot of the bed. He perched a hand on Cas’ leg and pushed a thigh between him, their knees knocking as Dean rolled flush against him, pushing Cas back and bringing them firmly together from chest to hip.

Cas looked good, pinned back among the covers, blue eyes shining out above rosy cheeks. Dean kissed beneath one eye, softly, trailing his lips to the corner of Cas’ mouth. Cas nipped at him gently, steering Dean back for further kisses. Dean dropped back, nudged his nose down the sharp line of Cas’ jaw, humming until he could nip at the cords in Cas’ neck.

Cas gripped him firmly at the back of his head, his hand pulsing, coaxing Dean forward, his chin tilting back as his body rolled in a sinuous wave. Dean rode out the heat of Cas beneath him, sighing through the dig of ribs and hip that followed, the grind of their cocks together as Cas slowly pushed open his legs. Dean spread his thighs and settled his weight upon Cas, running his fingers over the swell of him while Cas hooked his hips and ground him down, bringing them sharply together.

“What do you want?” Dean murmured, bent down to suck at Cas’ collarbones. Cas moaned what might have been his name, then loosed a shaky sigh and buried his fingers into Dean’s hair, twisting him aside until Cas found his mouth again.

A hand between them worked both of their pants open. Dean arched up on his knees to push his pair down, angling to either side to remove his jeans altogether. Cas moved upright beneath him, hands working over Dean’s undershirt, his mouth moving to replace the trail of fingertips across his chest. Dean hooked around Cas’ neck with an elbow, obliging as Cas tipped him back. He fumbled open Cas’ fly, working a hand into his boxers and pumping his dick, fist moving dirty and quick.

“Want you—Dean, I—” Cas breathed, wet against his mouth. His fingers dug fever-hot into Dean’s hips, pinning him impossibly still.

“Wanna fuck me?” Dean panted, buying a scant inch to breathe by knocking their brows together. He mussed Cas’ hair with his spare hand, otherwise keeping his fist sloppy and loose around Cas.

Cas ground fruitlessly against his limp fingers, whining when Dean pulled back his hand. He wiped a trail of precome up Cas’ side, digging his nails in for the softest bite. Dean stuck a smile against Cas’ mouth, and otherwise lay back and still as Cas pinned him by his hair and climbed over him, angling his hips above Dean’s face.

“Yeah, baby, come on,” Dean mouthed, curling open his lips at the initial press of Cas' dick. Cas held his jaw open, rocked his hips gently forward. Moaned softly as Dean took in his cock with a swirl of his tongue tip.

Cas sank into him in increments, rocking back before rolling forward again. He followed the pace Dean set for him, kneading his hands into Cas’ spread thighs, edging him forward in jerky waves. Dean closed his eyes and let the tempo they found take over, his throat relaxing enough for Cas to claim him deeper still.

Their rhythm stuttered, once, as Cas sat back on Dean’s chest. Dean frowned and pursed up at him, his mouth feeling wet and overstretched. It took a moment for him to figure out why Cas was holding back.

Dean glanced at the bed behind him, then glared incredulously up at Cas. “Are you seriously watching _Raiders_ right now?”

Cas, for his part, was unperturbed by Dean’s outburst. He merely frowned down at the screen. “Why did they make the Ark produce clouds, Dean? It’s supposed to be a Hand of God, not a fog machine.”

Dean scrambled an arm free toward the laptop, slapping at it while he stretched. He assumed Cas was fighting him for it, considering how he reached for the laptop too, so Dean smacked his ass as a distraction, yelping a little when Cas’ weight came unsettled atop of him.

Cas reached the laptop first, and closed it before taking up Dean’s outstretched hand. Dean lost his breath when Cas fell back on him, his legs curling up on instinct.

Cas twined their fingers, brought Dean’s knuckles up against his lips. “It was your idea to watch it,” he murmured, running his tongue over the ridge of Dean’s hand.

Dean sat up as quickly as he could, knocking Cas askew. He ended up with Cas half in his lap, half spread across the bed.

“You owe me for that,” Dean muttered, all the while leaning down for a kiss.

 

 

V.

The fuck-up with the rift couldn’t have come at a worse time.

They were always backed into a corner, always, whenever it came time for a final fight. That wasn’t new. But then the backstab happened, a literal back-stabbing, and that… Dean hadn’t expected things to end between them, not yet. And certainly not like that.

Now Cas was gone, and life just wasn’t the same without him. Food lost its flavour; drink lost its taste, though that didn’t stop Dean from racing his nightmares to the bottom of a bottle each and every night. Dean’s every action seemed purposeless—his soul was gone, but his body hadn’t been buried yet.

Two hours of sleep weren’t enough to get by on anymore, not once they’d taken up residence in too many nights in a row. Dean put the tv in the latest motel on mute and flipped through its handful of channels, taking in static as much as he did screen.

Sam was turning fitful in the flicker cast across from him, so Dean stopped on an old Swayze movie, watching until Demi Moore showed up and he was certain which was the film. He couldn’t stick to it though, not once he started wondering what Cas would’ve thought about it.

He would’ve liked _Ghost_ , Dean figured, after he revved the Impala and brought her down the empty roads, sleeping hanging from his eyes but his body just begging for some modicum of peace. Just one night where he didn’t dream of Cas, didn’t wake with his arms empty and the pillow soaked beneath him, catching the heart that crumbled out of him whenever he managed a moment of rest.

Cas would’ve liked _Ghost._ Would’ve liked so many things they had yet to share together.

Too bad Dean would never know for sure.

 

 

VI.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, voice so low in the phone that it all but slithered into Dean’s ear.

Dean fought the impulse to jerk the steering wheel. He glanced over to Sam, needing a familiar face to anchor him. He listened while Cas spoke, took the address Cas gave him, and promptly hightailed it through the night.

After they found him, after they’d scooped Cas up and brought him home, Dean held his breath, waiting, the entire time. It was a dream, had to be. One of those lucid nightmares Dean had been sporting ever since insomnia and him had become such a tightknit thing.

It just didn’t seem real, even as Cas settled onto the bed beside him, tucking the comforter up around Dean’s chest like it would help bring him sleep. Dean turned onto his side, moved his cheek to the edge of his pillow and not an inch further. He waited for Cas to settle across from him, nudging himself forward until they touched from knee to cheek.

“You’re here,” Dean murmured, finally, when the urge to stroke Cas’ face grew too much for him to bear. He traced his fingers over Cas’ bottom lip, rubbed his knuckles over the lines on his cheek. His thumb whispered over the shell of Cas’ ear, soothing shut those bright blue eyes.

Cas took his time looking to him again. He tipped his brow forward, bringing his head to rest against Dean’s. A soft breath washed across Dean’s cheek. “I’m here,” Cas assured him. His arm settled firmly across Dean’s waist.

“Are you tired?” Cas asked, later, when Dean showed no signs of stopping his explorations. Dean shook his head. Scratched his fingers through Cas’ hair. Cas shifted until the swell of his cheek fit smoothly within Dean’s palm.

“Would you rather watch a film instead?”

Dean huffed a quiet breath, and Cas fluttered his eyes against it. He looked so real. Dean reeled him in, planting a kiss atop each lid.

“Yeah. Yeah, you pick,” Dean told him, so Cas went about collecting Dean’s laptop from the bedside debris. He worked the folders smoothly, pulling up an old black-and-white that Dean had pirated one night while neck-deep in regret.

“ _All About Eve_ ,” Cas muttered, eyeing Dean with a curious glint. “You have this?”

Dean shrugged his cheek into Cas’ chest, arm slung low around his hips. He didn’t know how to explain to Cas how those types of movies, the old ones with the clever dialogue, they all made Dean think of him. Didn’t know whether to tell Cas about the sleepless nights, or the marathons spent just wishing it felt the same.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dean mumbled, his eyes hanging heavy.

Cas scrubbed a hand up his back, curling around the crown of Dean’s head. “Me too,” he murmured, cheek planted against Dean.

Cas didn’t push him further, just turned the volume down, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair as the movie began to play.

**Author's Note:**

> also on [tumblr](https://vaudelin.tumblr.com/post/167927399313/where-your-heart-ought-to-be-nsfw).


End file.
